Mirror, Mirror
by Seanchaidh
Summary: It's three months after where series two left off. Things have quietened down and some of the team have been able to get on with their own lives, but now they are being called back together to solve a puzzle unlike any other.
1. Chapter 1

**Mirror, Mirror**

**Chapter 1**

"Mr Temple? Telephone call for you."

Connor Temple dusted his hands on his already sand coloured trousers and stood up. His back ached, his eyes hurt and his mouth was dry from the incessant hot wind that blew sand, dust and grit everywhere he wished it wasn't. Palaeontology wasn't quite so much fun when you had to dig for your specimens.

There was no way round it, of course: he had to get some field experience if he wanted his degree and, unfortunately, actually going back beyond the KT boundary in person didn't count. He reached the sturdy, sand-stained tent that served as a base and pulled back the flap.

"It's a Ms Lewis, Mr Temple," said the weather-worn secretary as he walked in, her tone matronly and disapproving, "calling from London."

Connor tried smiling at the secretary, in the hope that she would let him answer his call in private, but was ignored. He decided to ignore her as well: there wasn't much else he could do.

"Jenny! How nice to hear your dulcet tones!" Connor's voice was bursting with false enthusiasm.

"No time for pleasantries Connor: this phone call is costing us a fortune. We're sending a plane out for you. It's a military personnel carrier. It should be with you in approximately two hours."

"Two hours? That's quick!"

"It left some time ago. It just took us this long to find out where you were, then find a phone number for you!"

"But..."

"Never mind that. You have two hours to get your stuff together and get back to Sana'a Airport. We've cleared a runway for the jet. Your cover story is that your father is a high ranking member of British Intelligence. We have reason to believe that his identity has become leaked and you may be the target of a kidnap attempt. We're flying you home for your own protection."

"Why does my father get to be the one with the exciting, hidden life: why can't it be me for a change?"

"Firstly, Connor: it is you and the truth rarely makes a good lie. Secondly, Connor: a good lie has to be plausible! See you soon."

She had hung up before he could reply. Of course, she was right: nobody would believe that he was the one with his name on an Official Secrets Act somewhere. Even his best friends hadn't believed him capable of that. He frowned as he remembered how that affair had turned out. Maybe if he had been more capable, Tom would still be alive.

His frown increasing, he handed the receiver back to the glowering secretary and made his way out of the tent. It would take more than an hour over rough terrain to get back to Sana'a from the dig site, and another half hour to cross the town and double back to it's airport, although you could probably save some time by cutting across town in the suburbs. Maybe there was a quicker way than that. Connor shook his head and started scanning the dig site for the elderly palaeontology professor who had agreed to take over from Cutter in his tuition. Finally spotting him on the far side of the dig, he made his way over there.

XXXXXX

"Cutter!" Jenny shouted through the letter box of the ageing, detached, Early Victorian town house. "CUTTER!"

No answer was the loud reply.

Sighing, rolling her eyes and leaning back on her high heels, Jenny shook her head, glanced back at her car, decided it would be perfectly safe, weather and dinosaurs permitting, in this neighbourhood, and picked her way through the cracked paving and overgrown garden to the rear of the building. The front door had been locked, possibly double locked, but that didn't mean the back door would be.

After a somewhat hazardous approach across weed-broken slabs that threatened to trap and snap her heels at any minute, Jenny reached the plain, wooden door that led into the kitchen at the rear of the house. From the window it looked as though, while still visibly lived in, the kitchen got just about as much attention as the garden.

She tried the door.

It was locked.

Now what?

Jenny scanned the area around the door for a handy protruding lintel or worn out doormat that might hide a spare key, but found nothing. She did notice a light on in an upstairs window though: that meant he was in there at least, but presumably not conscious enough to have noticed the daylight beaming through the same window. She sighed. She hated having to do this. It wasn't so much the fact that didn't really want people to know she could do it: it was the fact that she as going to have to redo her hair, and probably her nails, when she did. Jenny Lewis didn't mind surprising people: she just hated having to ruin an expensive manicure to do it.

She retrieved a couple of long, pointed pins from her tightly coiled French roll. It didn't fall out. That was a good sign: perhaps it wouldn't. Lowering herself to eye level with the ancient lock, she allowed herself the positive thought that at least it was more likely to be a quick task and she wouldn't get cramp in her legs from the awkward, crouching position they had to be to stop her putting her knee through her tights.

She was right: it was a quick job. Just four parts to slide into place and the lock clicked open. It was just like that summer in Avignon.

Straightening up and dusting herself down, she replaced the pins as close to where they had been as she could remember and opened the door.

The air inside was dry and stale. It rushed to greet her like a puppy that had been shut in a room for too long. The house was quiet: sleeping, like its only occupant. Closing the door behind her, Jenny made her way through the kitchen to the main hallway of the house and turned to climb the stairs. A photograph caught her eye: Nick, Helen and Stephen posing with one of Cutter's books. All three were smiling in the picture. Jenny wondered how long ago it was taken and whether any of those smiles were as false as the one she had given when she had told Cutter that they wouldn't need him for a while, that he should go home and get some rest: take some time off to grieve properly. That was just a month ago. She had neither seen nor spoken to Nick Cutter since and she wondered if it had been remiss of her not to check in with him occasionally.

She reached the top of the winding staircase and suddenly realised that she had let herself lose her point of reference: she could no longer be certain in which direction the lit window lay. Glancing to left and right, she started trying doors at random. The first was a cupboard. Then a bedroom: Nick's judging by the clutter. Then the bathroom. Then another bedroom, presumably a spare one since it lacked any form of personality. Finally, she opened the door to the lit room. It was a study of sorts: the walls lined with bookshelves, some of which held skulls or bones, others fossils still embedded in their rocky tombs, others supporting jars of pickled specimens that looked as though they had come straight from the dissecting labs, still more carrying photographs of people, dig sites or yet more skeletons, and the lower shelves holding legions of box files. The books were stacked in haphazard piles on the floor. She had thought his office at the university had been bad, but that had been paradise compared to this!

Giving her mind a moment to sort through the rubble, she eventually spotted its owner in the midst of it. He had his back to her, his head resting on a pile of papers in front of him, a computer keyboard, hanging precariously over the edge of the desk, by his elbow. She walked over to him, then stopped suddenly. On the windowsill beyond there was a photo frame. Tucked into the side of the frame, almost completely obscuring the picture behind it, was a photograph of herself and Nick Cutter. Only it wasn't her. It was like her: the woman in the picture was identical to her in every way except her clothes and hairstyle. Her hair was lighter too: Jenny's natural colour rather than the chic dark brown she paid her hairdresser so much money for. She reached over and lifted the photograph out of the frame, peering at it closely. It must be her: Claudia, the woman he had spent so much time getting her mixed up with, and who Helen had seemed to recognise in her too.

Nick stirred and Jenny glanced up, dropping the photo. She looked back to the photo frame, curious to see who or what had been replaced by this mysterious woman. She tilted her head to one side to get a better view. The photograph was old. It was a wedding photograph: the bride and groom smiling happily at each other. She realised with a shock that it was Nick and Helen's wedding photograph.

Shaking her head and reminding herself that she was here for a reason, Jenny turned back to Nick.

"Cutter," she said softly. He stirred, but slept on. She tried again, this time a little louder. "Cutter!"

Still nothing.

Jenny sighed, frowning down at the sleeping enigma before her. He was such a puzzle: rash and emotional sometimes, coolly rational and steady at others. And brave: how much courage had it taken to stand there in that room full of predators and not panic? And now this new piece of the puzzle: Claudia was real. She hadn't seen that one coming. She had always believed the story of Claudia Brown to be just a figment of his vivid imagination, but now that she had proof that the woman was real, did it mean that his story was too? If it was: how much more did she only think she knew about the real Nick Cutter?

She brushed the messy hair back from his forehead.

"Nick," she said, letting her hand fall to his shoulder and shaking him until he started to come round. "Nick, wake up."

"Wha... Claudia? What..." Nick Cutter pushed himself up from the desk and rubbed a hand across his eyes, then looked up and flushed in embarrassment. "Jenny! Sorry: must've dropped off. What's the matter? Has Lester fallen out with his new pet mammoth?"

"Let's just say we need you back, sooner than expected. Connor has been called in too."

"What about Abby?"

"Relatively easy to find and not a priority at present: you weren't answering your calls and Connor's a little further afield than usual at present."

"Oh, yeah, the dig. I wonder how Professor Sanderson's finding Connor's conspiracy theories out in Yemen."

"He isn't. At least, not any more. By now Connor should be finding his way onto a plane straight home."

"I thought there weren't any commercial airlines that were flying direct to London from Yemen just now?"

"Who said anything about commercial. Now you go and have a shower, _please_, and get changed and I will go downstairs, locate something that resembles a coffee machine, and make you some coffee."

"It's by the sink," Nick muttered, getting to his feet. "Mugs and coffee in the cupboard up above. No milk, no sugar."

"I shall find them, don't worry: now go!"

Jenny watched Nick stumble off in the direction of his bedroom, closing the door behind himself when he got there. She bent down and retrieved the photo of Nick and Claudia, replacing it carefully in its original position, then turned and headed out of the room and back down the stairs.

The kitchen was sparsely furnished and the fridge was empty: if there ever had been any milk, it had gone off and been thrown away. She sighed: she would have to wait until she got back to the ARC to make herself a cup: she'd paid too much for the porcelain enamel on her teeth to risk ruining it with coffee stains. Locating the coffee, mugs and coffee machine was easy: they were the only things in the kitchen that seemed to undergo any regular use, other than the freezer and microwave. She heard water gurgling through the pipes as she waited on the machine and realised with relief that Nick had followed her orders regarding the shower.

As the coffee machine began to gurgle itself, she let herself mentally tick off things on a to do list.

First: Ensure that Captain Beckett and his team were fully aware of case details and their orders.

Second: Get Connor back from field trip.

Third: Get update from Beckett and pass on to Lester

Fourth: Get Cutter back.

Fifth: Ensure Cutter is fully briefed on the case before taking any further steps

That was the difficult one: this wasn't exactly a straightforward case and he was probably going to have asked her a dozen questions before she'd even got past the first part!

XXXXXX

It was good to be home. Connor dropped his bags happily then turned round and shut the sliding door. He'd still have the stairs to negotiate with the two heavy holdalls, but at least he was home now. He turned, hearing footsteps and preparing a silly grin with which to shout "surprise", but as soon as he did so his smile faded. The footsteps hadn't belonged to Abby: instead it turned out that they belonged to a tall, tanned, muscle-bound guy wearing nothing more than a towel and an impressive set of abs.

Connor swore inwardly and started mentally kicking himself for disappearing half way round the world for a month. Just as he was beginning to feel he should probably say something, Abby appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Connor!" Abby's voice suddenly filled the vacuum-like silence. She was definitely surprised, Connor thought, but was she glad?

"Abby!" Connor replied, trying to regain some of the cheerfulness he had felt a few moments earlier. "Surprise!"

Abby hurried down the steps and stopped short beside the be-towelled guy, who was now looking awkwardly from Abby to Connor and back again.

"Who's your friend?" Connor asked, gritting his teeth into a forced smile.

"My friend? Oh... Yes.. This is Sam. He's an old friend. Used to work at the zoo for a while. Went to uni. Been out in Trinidad. Just back. Needed somewhere to stay. That's all." Abby was aware she was blurting everything out way too fast, but for some reason she couldn't quite stop herself.

"Oh, so he's staying... Here? With us? Well... With you... I guess..."

"I, um... I said he could have your room. Just while you were away, you know? Couldn't have him sleeping on the sofa when there was a bed going spare. You weren't due back for another two weeks..."

"Oh... My bed..." Connor's voice bizarrely brightened a little: he'd never been so pleased to hear he didn't have a room to come home to. "I guess I'll be taking the sofa then."

He grinned again: this time it was genuine. Abby grinned back apologetically.

"Sorry: I'll bring you some bedding down."

"No worries," Connor said, cheerfully, picking up his bags again. "It's better than a camp bed and it'll save me lugging these things up those stairs. It took us long enough to get them down here in the first place!"

Abby grinned back again and suddenly the bags felt a bit lighter.

"I think I'll go and get dressed," said Sam, suddenly breaking the new silence that had grown.

Abby glanced back over her shoulder as he disappeared up the stairs then looked back to Connor.

"Cup of tea?" She asked.

"Love one!"

He watched her disappear off to the kitchen, then dragged the two bags over to the sofa in the middle of the various vivariums. Letting the bags fall, he collapsed back onto the sofa and laughed. He heard a chirping from above and looked up to see Rex gliding down in a spiral from one of the rafters. The lizard landed gently on the sofa beside him, looked up at him and chirped again, then dug his head under Connor's hand.

"He's missed you," said Abby as she arrived with two steaming mugs of tea.

"Bet he's the only one!" Connor laughed as she handed him his mug and sat down on the sofa, avoiding Rex's happily curling and uncurling tail.

"Don't be silly, 'course he's not!" Abby laughed in return.

Suddenly there was silence again. An awkward silence that took their memories back months to a cliff top maybe millions of years in the future. It was a silence that was difficult to break.

"I'll go see if Sam knows how long he'll be here," Abby said suddenly, breaking her gaze and getting to her feet. She hurried off up the stairs without a backward glance.

Connor mentally swore at himself again. Why could he never bring himself to say anything that mattered? Not at the right time anyway.

He sighed and set the mug down on a nearby table, lifting his hand up off of a protesting Rex who proceeded to head butt his knee in an attempt to get his attention.

"Well, looks like that was it, Rex: the big hello and welcome back, it's great to see you Connor I've really missed you..." Rex growled at his sarcastic tones and Connor relented a little.

"I know mate: you've missed me. And you're not the only one, apparently. Just wish I knew what to do about that..." Connor's voice trailed off as he thought through the short conversation he'd just had with Abby, replaying it in his mind to get every little detail right. A chirp from Rex brought him back to the present and reminded him that he should be paying attention to Rex now, in reparation for going off and leaving him for a month. He grinned down at the little lizard.

"These clothes aren't going to wash themselves, mate," Connor told Rex seriously, leaning down to pull another bag out of the inside of one of the holdalls. "And believe you me: they definitely need washing. Come on: let's see if we can persuade that old bucket of bolts in there to work for us."

Dragging the bag with him, Connor made his way through to the kitchen and the washing machine. Rex flapped silently along behind him, landing on top of the front loader and watching with interest as he tipped the contents of the bag into the machine, picking out a few items that might end up the wrong colour if they were to stay and throwing them back into the bag.

"Now then, Rex: we add the detergent, like so," he poured liquid detergent into the drawer of the washer, "press the button for a forty wash, turn the dial past the delay bit and press go."

Connor pressed the power button on the front of the machine.

The light came on. The machine stayed silent.

"Right. The door's shut, the right buttons are pressed and not pressed, the dially thingy's at the right bit, the stuff's in the drawer and the drawer is closed. It is closed right, isn't it Rex?" Rex examined the drawer and chirped at it. "So why isn't it going now?"

The sounds of laughter floated down from the stairs and Connor looked up to see Abby and Sam walking down laughing over some photos.

"You might need to give it whack, Conn," Abby called back over her shoulder as the two carried on through to the sofa. "It's been on the blink again. I'll have to get someone in to take a look at it."

"Oh, I could take a look if you like," Sam muttered to Abby as they walked away. "I'm a dab hand with washing machines these days."

"Oh, he's a dab hand with washing machines these days," Connor mimicked quietly to Rex.

Another peal of laughter rang out from the sofa. Connor brought his hand down on top of the machine, narrowly missing Rex, who growled at him reproachfully. The washing machine started going.

"Oh, sorry, mate," Connor said, looking down at Rex.

The lizard chirped at him, flicked his crest and curled up on top of the rumbling washing machine.

"I suppose that's what it feels like to sleep though a gorgonopsid rampage," Connor muttered, his eyes drifting over to the sofa where Abby and Sam still giggled over photographs. Suddenly Abby glanced up, catching him watching. His cheeks flushing, Connor turned away quickly, busying himself with picking up his washing bag and trying to think of something to do next to avoid going back through to the sofa to get his cup of tea.

Just then his phone buzzed. At the same time, he heard the familiar sound of Abby's phone ringing. He answered his and turned to see her answering her own. It was the ARC. They were being called in. He hung up and raced through to the sofa, grabbing his jacket off the top of his holdall.

"Sorry, got to go," he called, making his way for the door.

"Work," Abby explained as she followed Connor to the door, leaving Sam looking both surprised and confused by the sudden burst of simultaneous action.

They got to the mini and both headed for the drivers door.

"My car, Connor: I drive!"

"But you always get to drive! I've been driving over deserts this past month, I'll have you know!"

"My car, my keys!" Abby's face jutted forwards in determination: she trusted Connor with her beloved Mini about as much as she trusted him with a tranquilizer gun!

"Fine!" Connor threw up his hands in defeat. "Some things never change!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Cutter was already going over the maps of the anomaly site when Abby and Connor finally arrived in the briefing room. He'd been comparing charts and sonar soundings and even highly classified Royal Navy maps for the past half hour and beginning to think that if he looked at another sheet of white paper with black lines on it, those lines might just get up and start dancing right in front of him.

"Where have you two been?" Cutter snapped as the door swung shut behind Abby.

"Er, Yemen," Connor replied, slightly taken aback. "Although not both of us, obviously," he added with a grin.

"We got stuck in traffic," Abby sighed, ignoring Connor and walking over to look at the maps. "What have we got?"

"Anomaly out in the North Sea," Cutter explained. "At lease, that's where I've been told it is: I can't make head nor tale of these!"

"Yes, that _is_ why we employ experts in underwater cartography, Professor Cutter."

The three glanced round to see Lester walking over to them, followed by Jenny and a dark haired man wearing a pale cream rugby shirt and dark trousers: the sort of thing a father might wear when taking his kids to the park. He even had the arms of a sweater tied loosely around his neck.

"Professor Nick Cutter, Abby Maitland, Connor Temple," Jenny stated, raising a hand towards each of the three in turn and pointing them out to the newcomer. "Nick, Abby, Conor: this is Captain James Beckett."

"Becker, actually," Becker cut in with crisp, clear cut tones, leaning forward to shake hands with Cutter and the others. "Typo on the internal memo: sorry about that."

"Captain _Becker_ will be in charge of all military based operations," Lester drawled lazily, leading the way to the large, oval table in the centre of the room. The rest of the group followed him and took their seats. "He comes highly recommended from sources I'd rather not disclose even if you have signed the Official Secrets Act. Therefore, _Professor Cutter_, you _will_ listen to him. While Ms Lewis has been busily rounding you all up and misreading her memos, Captain Becker and I have been organising our existing troops and making explorations of the anomaly site. So far we have one team based on a research vessel anchored a safe distance from the site and another team forming a base at Seahouses Harbour under the guise of sailing club officials considering the harbour for use in a competition. Captain Becker here has just come from there with the latest reports from our team on the research boat."

Finally sitting down, Lester waved a hand at Becker, who got to his feet and plugged a pen drive into a nearby computer. A series of images flicked up on the interactive whiteboard as he moved through the files to the presentation he wanted. He double clicked the icon and a large map of the south-western corner of the British Isles appeared, centering on the stretch of water between England and the continental coast from northern France to Holland. In the centre of the map was a yellow pin-like marker.

"This, as I hope you all can see," Becker began, "is the stretch of water where the North Sea meets the Channel. In the centre is a fishing area known as Dogger Bank. The area in and around the Dogger Bank is primarily a massive sandbank: its all fairly flat and smooth. Anything that wasn't before has been made that way by the constant use of beam trawls by the fisheries industry. Something, however, snagged one of those beam trawls two days ago and pulled it under. There was no loss of life: the crew managed to escape on their life raft only to watch their expensive boat and catch being dragged off in the opposite direction. We sent a crew out to investigate the area and, sure enough, it picked up an anomaly."

"I've checked the anomaly detector," Cutter interjected, "It's not picking up anything."

"That may be because the anomaly itself is out of range," Becker suggested, "or it may be interference from other, continental radio stations: we're not sure yet. We do, however, know exactly where the anomaly is and, more interestingly, exactly how large it is."

Becker pointed to the pin marker with his cursor and double clicked. A set of co-ordinates appeared on the screen.

"Latitude: 55°32'1.35"N. Longitude: 3°17'1.01"E." Becker read out from the screen. "But if that doesn't help you any, take a look at this."

Becker clicked another button and the screen behind the pin marker changed to show a grey line curving round by the anomaly site, joined seconds later by a few other grey lines from the direction of Germany and Denmark.

"Something to make this anomaly a little more interesting, ladies and gentlemen," Lester piped up, rising from his chair. "It's in Dutch waters."

XXXX

"How can the anomaly be in Dutch waters when it's this far north?" Abby asked as the small group settled themselves in the ARC's brand new private jet.

"It's more about fishing territoties than anything else," Cutter explained. " They're called Exclusive Economic Zones, or EEZs. Under the law of the sea, an Exclusive Economic Zone is a seazone over which a state has special rights over the exploration and use of marine resources. The North Sea has been parcelled up into these zones. While Britian gets a sizeable chunk, because we've got the longest stretch of coastline bordering it, it only goes out so far. Territorial waters normally extend something like twelve nautical miles. EEZs extend up to 200 nautical miles. The anomaly is near the meeting point of four EEZs: Britain, Holland, Germany and Denmark. According to the data, it's just within the Dutch section."

"But if they're not territorial waters, then what's the problem?"

"EEZs give exclusive fishing _and _research rights to their country. Not only are we investigating the disappearece of one of our fishing vessels in their waters, we're doing it in a research boat under the cover of marine biologists. If the Dutch government were to find out about us, it would probably make Lester's job more difficult and ours non-existant, at least this time round."

The group lapsed into silence, conversation killed by the sound of the jet's engines firing up and the forces that pushed them back against their seats as the plane took off. It wasn't until they were in the air and flying at a steady speed that speech once again became a possibility.

"So how's Professor Sanderson these days?" Cutter asked Connor, who was looking more than a little pale.

"Oh, you know," Connor swallowed, nervously, "sandy."

"Are you okay?"

"Fine, I'm fine," Connor replied, focusing distinctly on the back of the chair in front of him, "Just not a big fan of flying: that's all."

Cutter nodded, then frowned.

"How did you get back from Yemen so quickly, Connor?"

"Military jet: flew rea-lly fast."

"Not having a good day then."

"You could say that."

"You're okay with boats though."

"Boats are fine. Not a problem. Nice gentle boat trip: easy."

After half an hour of stilted conversation and an attempt at I-Spy, the jet began to manoeuvre into its final descent. Another half hour and the team were seated uncomfortably in a muddy people carrier heading for the seaside town of Seahouses. The closer they got to the coast, the more apparent it became that a nice gentle boat trip was completely out of the question.

XXXX

"Position holding, Captain."

Captain Thomas Johnson glared at the weather fronts rolling across his monitor. He was an old hand at storms, but that didn't mean he welcomed them. He'd heard some of the younger crew members joke that a storm would make their job more interesting, but he himself had seen far too many vessels disappear at sea to underestimate the power of nature.

"Weigh anchor," he barked at the other crewmen in the helm.

"Our orders are to maintain our position at the anomaly site, Captain Johnson," a military clad individual countered.

"I am aware of that, Sergeant," Johnson replied curtly. "I am also aware of the fact that this storm will blow us off course as soon as we raise our anchor. However, I prefer having to make a return trip from a new position to maintaining our current one some fifteen fathoms lower than we are right now!"

Turning to a midshipman who had paused when the sergeant spoke out, Johnson nodded his head and watched the midshipman dart off to give the order out on deck. The ship lurched as its anchor came free, giving the growing storm free rein on the vessel.

"Maintain analysis of the anomaly as long as possible," the sergeant ordered his small group of military personnel. The ship lurched again and he grabbed hold of a chair to steady himself.

"I suggest you strap yourself into that, sergeant," Captain Johnson shouted over the increasing gale. "This equipment is highly sensitive to stumbling soldiers!"

XXXX

"What do you mean they're heading back?" Lester shouted irritably. "They were ordered to stay at the anomaly site!"

The radio operator held out a slip of paper in explanation. "Latest message from Captain Johnson just stated that the research vessel had been hit by a severe storm and was returning to base, sir."

Lester snatched the paper petulantly and stormed out of the cabin. Not only had the harbour master ordered all vessels to remain in port, but now his only eyes and ears out at the actual site were being forced back to land too. Lester glared at the white-tipped waves washing the harbour wall opposite. It was just like the thing for the British weather to take a turn for the worst just when he needed it to be calm. It was probably a bank holiday weekend.

XXXX

"Let me see that tidal chart again?" Nick Cutter once again found himself trying to make sense of marine data. This time, though, he was sure something was definitely not quite right. He stared at the computer screen over the operators shoulder, as if willing the answer to suddenly pop up into view like one of those irritating internet sites that tried to sell you junk.

"What are you looking at?" Jenny asked, her heels clicking on the varnished floor.

"These are the water levels for high and low tides in this area," Nick replied, raising a finger to point out part of the information on the screen in more detail. "This bit shows the levels for right here: Seahouses harbour. Does anything look odd to you?"

"Not as such, no," Jenny murmured. She glanced out of the window, then back to the computer screen. "Although..."

"What?" Cutter asked, looking round at her.

"According to this, we should be at low tide just now: look at the times."

"And that's significant because?"

"Just look at the water level," Jenny pointed out of the window to a marker on the harbour wall opposite them. "We're nearly at the high tide mark. We should be nowhere near that."

"Couldn't that just be the storm?"

"Not to that extent, no," Jenny shook her head. "Perhaps, if the wind was westerly, it would be higher than it should, but look at the flags out there: they're pointing west, not east. The water should be being blown back out to sea. Instead it seems to be coming in regardless."

"Well, what does that mean?" Abby asked, coming over to join Nick and Jenny at the computer.

"It means the water level's rising," Cutter replied.

"It can't rise that much: it's the North Sea!" Connor cut in in disbelief.

"Of course it can rise, Connor: it's a basin, just like the canal." Cutter snapped. "It's just much bigger."

"But this is at low tide, with an easterly wind," Jenny said slowly, making sure she had everyone's attention. "What happens when the tide turns, and the wind slows down?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Lester, we have to get to that anomaly site!" Cutter grabbed Lester's arm as he caught up with the taciturn home office executive.

"Feel free to swim." Lester quipped, plucking Cutter's hand off of his arm as if it were a thorn. "No, wait a minute," he added, "I need you. Throw Connor in instead."

"Hey!" Connor protested, but Lester had disappeared inside the small seaside hotel they had taken over as a base with Nick Cutter fast on his heels. Connor and Abby followed, watching Jenny hurry off ahead of them.

"Don't worry: I'm sure he was only joking," Abby grinned, pulling her jacket closer around her against the fierce wind. "After all: you're the one who came up with the anomaly detector."

"Fat lot of good that's been this time round!"

"Why d'you think it didn't pick it up?"

"Dunno," Connor shrugged and shook his head. "Could just be that it's out of range, like what's-his-name... Becker... Like he said."

"You don't think it's the interference thing then?"

"No. No, it shouldn't be that. I mean: that's how we spotted it in the first place: it was interfering with the other channels. Besides: even if there is something else on the same wavelength out there, there isn't back at the detector. Plus, they're picking up the signal from here, so it must be a distance thing. It's a bit off the beaten track this one, so it's understandable."

"Hmm."

They walked on in silence. Hurrying through the sturdy wooden doors of their new base until they reached the warm, relatively quiet interior.

"How do think Lester organised this place?" Abby murmured, looking around at the bustling activity.

"Not sure I want to know," Connor replied. "Do we have to check in though, or what? It's not like we were expecting to be staying long."

"Dunno, but I'll need to let Sam know if we are staying."

"Oh yeah: _Sam_... Is he a close friend then or what?"

"Depends what you mean by close, I guess."

"It's just I've never really heard you mention him, that's all."

"Haven't really thought about him since I left uni. He just turned up."

"Turns up out of the blue asking to stay and you let him?"

"Wouldn't be the first time someone's done that," Abby glared pointedly at Connor. "Besides: I owed him."

"Really? What for?"

"He got me that job at the zoo. Since that's what pays for that place, I couldn't really turn him away."

Abby turned and wandered over towards the reception, scanning the crown for Jenny, Cutter or Lester.

"Ah, there you are!"

Abby stopped and turned in the direction of the voice. It was Becker. He was striding towards her with a determined air. Connor caught up with her as Becker reached them.

"I'm afraid we've only got one room left, but don't worry: it's a twin room so nobody has to sleep on the floor and there's even an en suite."

"You what?" Connor cut in, confused.

"I'm not sharing with him!" Abby exclaimed.

"Thanks!"

"You snore!"

"Do not!"

"I can hear you through the wall!"

Captain Becker looked from one to the other of them like a Pimms fan watching tennis. Raising an eyebrow, he held up two keys.

"Like it or not: you're stuck with each other. I suggest you make the best of it. Third floor, turn right out of the lift, last door on the left." Dropping the keys into Connor's hand, he turned and stalked off. Abby rolled her eyes and walked in the direction of the lifts.

"I don't snore!" Connor called after her.

XXXX

"There is water pouring through that anomaly, Lester: enough water to raise the sea level of the North Sea!" Cutter's voice was raised, but not quite at shouting level yet.

"What precisely do you intend to do about it, Professor?" Lester asked sternly. "As far as I can recall, we have never yet managed to stop anything coming through an anomaly if it wanted to, living or otherwise!"

"We can't just sit here and do nothing!"

"As opposed to what, exactly: sitting on a sinking boat and drowning? Tell me, professor: how is that constructive?"

"I'm open to suggestions!" Shouting level grew nearer. "What's your plan? Wait for it to close and start handing out sandbags?"

"Shore defences are being improved as we speak," Lester reassured Cutter calmly. "We've had the MET office send out a storm surge warning throughout the UK. We've even advised a closure of the Thames barrier."

"And what happens when it breaches those defences? Lester, there are millions of tons of water pouring through that anomaly. No other anomaly has cause a rise in water levels that quickly and to that extent. Even if the anomaly were to close right now, we wouldn't be able to get rid of that water! Who knows the effect it will have on our coastlines and our climate!"

Lester sighed and walked over to the window of his appropriated office. He was a firm believer in the serenity of accepting the things one cannot change. Twisting the blind cord so that he and Cutter could see through to the hotel lobby beyond, he raised a hand and pointed at the activity beyond.

"You see all those people, Professor Cutter," he said. "They are home office experts in almost every field you can imagine. Like you, they have all signed the official secrets act and are therefore privy to exactly the same level of knowledge as yourself, in their own fields anyway. Do you see them panicking? No. Why not? Because, unlike you, they have been doing this job for considerably longer and know that panicking does not get things done. They are using their skills to collect and collate vital data and produce forecasts that will help us deal with this crisis."

"Do they _all_ know about the anomalies?"

"No: not all of them. In fact very few of them. There is no need for them to know."

"Then where do they think the water is coming from?"

"Melting glacier releasing water from an underground lake, exacerbated by the storm surge."

"And they're buying that?"

"You think they're more likely to accept that it's coming through a tear in time and space?"

Cutter shrugged, seeing Lester's point in this at least.

"Get to work, Professor: I want to know where this anomaly goes and why there is so much water coming through it. I also want to know what else, if anything, has come through with the water and if there is any way to close it."

"We've never tried to close an anomaly before."

"Then I suggest you start now."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Jenny Lewis sat at her newly acquired desk. In front of her sat a small pile of graphs, charts, maps and memos, each finding a new way to tell her that the entire North Sea was increasing in size and the many and vaired ways in which this would affect the island nation she called home. There were maps showing which areas would be the first to flood, suggestions for evacuation plans, estimations of the hight and strength of the flood defences necessary to avoid catastrophe, calculations of the estimated loss of life should the defences fail and no evacuation take place. The last of these made both terrifying and depressing reading: it included every city on the east coast. Only Edinburgh, with it's extinct volcanoes, stood a chance of keeping any of its buildings above the predicted water levels.

She flicked through the flimsy computer printouts, trying to keep the edge of panic buried deep within her. All the while, throughout the immense crisis she now found herself in, one single question kept coming back into her mind.

Who was Claudia Brown?

XXXX

"It's not that bad," Connor admitted grudgingly. Abby rolled her eyes at him and continued to inspect the small, badly decorated room they had been allocated.

It wasn't 'that bad', she supposed: she had definitely seen, and stayed in, worse. What worried her more was the situation: they hadn't expected to be away for more than a day, so nobody had brought any spare clothes with them, let alone an overnight bag, plus she'd never left Rex on his own overnight. She wasn't worried about the rest of her lizards: they were slow, placid creatures who sat patiently in their vivariums waiting to be fed. Rex was different. From the very first, he had been less than keen to spend all his time in a tank. He also appeared considerably more intelligent than her other, more usual, pets. He was more active and that meant he ate more frequently: every day instead of once a week or month like some other reptiles. She wasn't even sure he was completely cold-blooded: that stint in the fridge should have killed him, or at least knocked him out, but instead he'd survived and even managed to stay consious throughout. She would have to remember to speak to Cutter about that, some time when there were less pressing matters to worry about.

There was a knock at the door. Abby and Connor glanced at each other, then at the door.

"Come in," Abby called.

The door opened to reveal Captain Becker in a rather more military outfit. Behind him stood a younger soldier carrying two kit bags.

"I took the liberty of checking your files," Becker announced, walking into the room and motioning to the soldier to bring in the bags. "The clothing in here should fit you both. You will also find a number of overnight essentials. I'm afraid you won't be able to sort through them just now: Sir James wishes to see you both in his office."

Turning on his heel, Becker disappeared, his young lackey in tow. Abby and Connor looked at each other.

"Sir James?" Connor asked, puzzled.

"Lester, Connor," Abby sighed, heading for the door, "He means Lester."

XXXX

"Ah, good afternoon. I see you have finally decided to grace us with your presence," Lester quipped as Connor and Abby found their way into the office. Jenny, Becker and Cutter were already seated around the small conference table. Lester stood at the head of it.

"You will probably want to sit down for this," Jenny suggested in measured tones.

"As some of you are aware," Lester began, not waiting for the two newcomers to take their place at the table, "we have an unknown quantity of water pouring into the North Sea from an unknown anomaly leading to an unknown era. That is far too many unknowns for my liking, therefore I have had my busy little bees out there coming up with some answers. So far, we know that the low tide, which occurred some half hour ago, was predicted to show a low water level of one point six meters. Instead, it showed a low water level of four meters: almost as high as the previous high water level today. That gives us an estimated rise of just under two and a half meters. Initial reports suggest similar rises in sea level throughout the coastlines bordering the North Sea."

"Have the water levels stopped rising yet?" Cutter asked.

"Another unknown," Lester replied. "The tides on this side of the North Sea are on the turn now, so the rise in water levels at present is at least partially due to that. Other countries aren't monitoring their water levels constantly, as we are, since they don't yet know of any reason to do so. That means that, in between tides, we only have our own data to rely on.

Assuming that the water level remains stable, in terms of the anomaly anyway, that leaves us with a predicted high water level of six point two meters. Data from high water this morning suggests that the water level has risen two meters since then. If we add that to our current prediction, at half past eleven tonight we should see a high water level of eight point two meters, possibly more if we lose the wind. It is currently half past five, so that gives us six hours in which to either reverse the flow of water through the anomaly or prepare for the consequences."

"What height are our flood defences at currently?" Jenny asked, looking to Becker.

"The flood warnings went out four hours ago," Becker replied, "That should be enough time for most well organised areas to have added half a meter to their existing defences."

"Is that all?" Cutter exclaimed.

"There's a lot of coastline to cover," Becker shrugged.

"What about here?" Abby asked. "How high are our own defences?"

"The sea wall takes us up to seven meters. Spring tides rarely hit the six meter mark here. We've added half a meter to that ourselves: that's taking us up to seven and a half meters. The harbour slipway is our weakest point. I've got every spare man working on it but we'll still be cutting it fine by high tide and there's no guarantee that our defences will hold under the weight of water that's expected."

"So the ideal solution would be to find some way of pushing the water back through the anomaly," Lester said pointedly. "Or at least stop any more water coming through. Any suggestions on how we do that?"

"We can't!" Connor said, shrugging. "The water level on the other side of the anomaly must be deeper than it is here. It's creating a pressure difference: that's why water's coming through in the first place. It won't stop coming through until the water pressure on both sides of the anomaly has equalised."

"Then how do we go about equalising it?" Lester asked simply. "Can we increase the water pressure on this side of the anomaly artificially? What about closing the anomaly? Can we try that?"

"We don't know enough about what opens them yet, let alone what closes them!"

"Then might I suggest you turn your scattered yet highly imaginitive brain to some good use, Connor, and find out." Lester straightened up and addressed the entire group once more. "The ground floor of the hotel has been entirely converted into research facilities. We have anything available that Captain Becker's men can requisition within the town. I suggest you all start working on this. We should know more when the research vessel arrives back. Keep me informed."

The last words signalling an end to the meeting, Cutter and his team got up and followed Becker out of the office. They were led along corridors to a large room with a stage at the far end, in the middle of which stood a large screen showing a map of the North Sea and a number of flashing dots. Connor walked over to examine the screen. Becker joined him.

"It's not as coherent as your own model in the ARC, but it's the best we could come up with at short notice."

"What are the dots?" Connor asked.

"The white dot is the anomaly," Becker replied, pointing to the stationary white dot in the midst of the sea. "The green dot is our research vessel and the red dot is us. At the bottom of the screen you can see the time since detection, the strength of the magnetic field and a graph showing the countinuous readings of the latter."

"It's holding steady then."

"Unfortunately, yes."

XXXX

At the side of the hotel, hidden from the view of the general public by a solid wall, a member of the kitchen staff began unloading the various peelings and offcuts produced by the kitchen into a large green bin. Shaking the last of the carrot tops into the bin, he threw the large plastic box into a corner and picked up a hose. It didn't take long to clean out the box with the jet spray from the hose. That was the one good thing about the job: it might be noisy and smelly, and you stood a good chance of getting soaked if you weren't careful, but at least it was fast. He turned off the water and replaced the hose, anxious to get back inside out of the wind and threatening rain. Turning round again, he scooped up the box, straightened up and walked straight into a fist.

The cleaner's outfit was almost identical to that of the unconsious kitchen worker, but as he bound and gagged the helpless man, the cleaner considered one addition. Pulling the knotted scarf off of the other man's head, he undid its ties and refolded it, bringing it up to tie it around his own neck.

People tended to remember scars.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Becker's version of the Anomaly Detector was certainly the epitome of streamlining. Connor decided that he would have to start thinking about modifying his own version once they got back to the ARC. Some of the additions included in this model would be more than a little useful.

"Mr Temple?" Becker's voice intruded upon Connor's meandering thoughts as he surveyed the new AD. Connor looked round, still grinning with the enthusiasm of a child presented with a surprise new toy.

"I'd like you to meet the member of our team responsible for most of the work on our version of the detector," Becker continued. "A Lance Corporal Jones in our information technology department. Lance Corporal Jones is currently involved, along with others of our IT team, in moving all our computerised equipment to the Panorama Bar on the top floor of the hotel."

As Becker was speaking, two plain clothes soldiers began shutting down and dismantling the detector another soldier arrived and helped them load the component parts onto a porter's trolley.

"Please forgive the lack of uniform," Becker observed as he and Connor followed the industrious trio to the lift. "It was necessary that we arrive here incognito and it was only once the magnitude of the threat was established and the town evacuated that I myself have had time to change back into my official clothes. The members of this department have been the busiest and, therefore, unable to do likewise." The lift shuddered to a halt and Becker stepped out into the Panorama Bar. "I hope you like what we've done with the place."

Connor's jaw dropped. He'd been impressed by the anomaly detector, but apparently that was only the tip of the iceberg. Spread out along one glass wall were a dozen computers and their operators. Hanging from the ceiling, a plasma screen TV showed the inside of a boat, its crew in a frenzy of activity and its military passengers attempting to maintain a hold on their desks. Several tables had been joined together to form a conference sized table, upon which a large map was weighted down by glasses. The far end of the room held another stage, in front of which the soldiers were now setting up the detector. Upon the stage, a large screen was being lined up with the beam from a fixed point projector hanging from the ceiling.

Becker raised a hand in the direction of the stage and led the way. Connor followed him, still looking around at the work going on. When Becker came to a halt, Connor nearly walked into him.

"Mr Temple, allow me to introduce Lance Corporal Peta Jones and her team." Connor's gaze followed Becker's outstretched hand as he pointed out one of the IT specialists arguing with the projection board. At the sound of her name, a dark green jumper and black jeans retrieved a head of flame-coloured curls from behind the projection screen and blinked green eyes in the direction of Becker and Connor.

XXXX

Jenny watched Abby's eyes follow Connor and Becker to the door of the hall. The entire room was in the process of being dismantled but, between being distracted by Connor and trying to prevent anyone noticing this, Abby had failed to notice this. She was still standing looking at the papers she had been handed by one of the home office staff collating the incoming details from the research vessel.

"Something interesting?" Jenny asked, when Abby's gaze switched back to the papers. Abby looked up, noticed the table that the papers had been on was now empty, frowned, then looked round at Jenny.

"Where...?"

"They're moving upstairs," Jenny answered her, "Just in case."

"Oh." Abby paused, considering this, then waved her papers at Jenny. "Have you seen what these?"

"Not yet. What are they?"

"An inventory of the species found in the samples taken from around the anomaly site."

"And?"

"There's nothing there! Well, nothing out of the ordinary anyway. I mean, I'm guessing they can't do a microscopic analysis on it because there's none of our own plankton there, but all the macroscopic animals and plants are normal!"

"Isn't that good?"

XXXX

Quietly and without incident, he carried out his tasks. He was lucky that there were so many new faces around: fewer people who might have met him before and fewer who would notice yet another new face in the crowd. He didn't need orders: he'd been watching the kitchen worker for most of the day. He knew his part inside out. All he had to do now was wait until he could easily slip away unnoticed. He had an objective to achieve and he knew what was at stake if he failed.

XXXX

Jenny Lewis hurried along the corridor of the ground floor of the hotel. She was heading for Lester's office. It wasn't a difficult route. That explained why, when she should have been looking where she was going, her head was bent over the sheet of paper Abby had given her. She was heading one way in search of Lester. Abby was heading up the stairs to find Cutter.

Nick Cutter.

Such a mystery.

Jenny let her footsteps slow as her thoughts slipped off track. She just couldn't keep him out of her mind. She paused, thinking back to her walk through his house: the photographs on the wall, the haphazard scattering of clothes, books and papers in his bedroom and study.

His study.

That photograph.

Claudia Brown.

Who was she?

Jenny Lewis shook her head and started walking again, trying to focus on the paper and how she was going to explain the situation to Lester. She turned the corner and collided with someone walking the other way with equal rapidity. The collision knocked Jenny off her precarious balance and she flung out a hand to steady herself, landing on it with a sharp cry of pain. In an instant, strong arms were lifting her to her feet and a soft voice was asking her if she was okay.

Jenny looked up.

"Nick!" Jenny was genuinely surprised: she had thought, as had Abby, that Nick Cutter was upstairs in his room or up in the new operations room on the top floor. She saw a smile flit across his face and realised that she had let her daydreaming get the better of her. "I mean... Professor Cutter: what are you doing here? We thought you were upstairs."

"We?" Nick tried to turn his grin into a puzzled frown.

"Abby and I: Abby thinks she's spotted something."

"Oh?"

"I, um, I'm just going to find Lester. Have you seen him?"

"He's in his office. I was just speaking with him. You know you should really let me take a look at that wrist."

Jenny looked down at the wrist she was cradling and flexed her fingers.

"No it's fine. I've probably just staved it. Look: I can move all the fingers."

"Can you move the wrist?"

"What do you mean?"

"Try moving your whole hand up and down."

Jenny tried but, apart from an involuntary twitching of the fingers, her hand remained stubbornly still.

Nick winced in sympathy.

"It's probably broken near the end of the bone. Do you have a medical contingent in this army of experts here?"

Jenny frowned and realised that Becker and Lester had organised most of the people in the hotel while she had been busy rounding up Nick, Abby and Connor.

"I would assume so," she replied, sighing, "Lester would know."

"We were always well equipped before, but we only needed really serious medical care in the field once or twice and we always had an ambulance available. The most serious injuries, the ones that weren't fatal anyway, included a centipede bite and a knock to the head by a sleepy pteranodon. At least if you don't count the occasional Connor-inflicted injuries."

"No ambulances here I'm afraid. Although Leek always did make sure you had a good medical team on hand."

"Oh, no, this wasn't Leek: this was... someone else."

"What was she like?"

"Who?"

"Claudia Brown. That's who you were thinking of wasn't it?"

Nick sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes. Eventually he looked up at Jenny, pulled at his chin and sighed again.

"She was... I don't know... At first, she was very like you are, but without the short skirts and high heels."

"Thanks!"

"I just mean her fashion sense was different. More... Down to earth... Practical. Anyway: the point was that she was very direct. Especially when we first met!" Nick laughed at a private memory then looked up. "But as I got to know her, and as we both got to know more about the anomalies, I saw another side to her. Lots of sides to her. She was fragile, but she was also strong. She was confident, but also insecure. She was practical. She was kind. People always came first. She had so much courage. Even when she was terrified, she wouldn't give up."

"You loved her." It was a statement, but spoken so quietly that Jenny almost thought she had simply heard her own thoughts inside her head.

"Yes." Nick smiled and looked away. "Yes I did."

XXXX

"How is the Boy Wonder settling in upstairs?" Lester looked up as Becker entered the office and sat down.

"He's making new friends. Between Jones, her team and Temple we have enough computer geniuses to build an anomaly detector that can go global!"

"You say geniuses, I say geeks." Lester rolled his eyes and twirled his fountain pen between his fingers. "Besides: I'd rather have an anomaly controller than yet another detector, even if it's range stretches out to the farthest moon of Neptune!"

"They have their uses, James: you know that as well as anyone."

"As do you 'James'!" Lester replied, emphasising Becker's first name with a raised eyebrow. "What did make you pick that name anyway?"

"Which one? James or Becker?"

"Both."

"Becker was the name of the surgeon who operated on me after our last mission. James was the name of the man who saved my life on that mission, as you well know."

"I had considered the possibility, but one doesn't like to be too egocentric."

"I just thought it would be easier for you to remember."

"I thought that was their argument for keeping your own first name!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The air grew heavy around them, enfolding them in a blanket of false silence and separating them from the bustling activity in the main hall.

Silence.

Neither could look the other in the eye, but neither wanted to break the spell.

Slowly, as if drawn by some inexplicable force, Jenny raised her eyes to Nick's face. He was watching her. Watching her reaction and trying to make sense of it. Or perhaps he was searching for something in her eyes. Something... Or maybe someone.

So many questions found themselves forming in Jenny's mind. How alike was she to Claudia? How different? Had she loved him in return? And, if he loved _her,_ did that mean...

"Oh, you found him!" Abby's voice cut through the tangled briar of the moment to bring Jenny and Cutter back to the present.

"Oh!" Jenny glanced up at Cutter and put on her best conspiratorial grin. "Yes, we just happened to bump into one another. Literally. I think I may have a broken wrist. Lester's in his office apparently. Shall we pay him a visit, then I can get one of the medics to have a look at this."

XXXX

All was peaceful. All was calm. In a small circle at the far end of the room, six minds chewed over the problem of how to close an anomaly that wants to stay open. They'd been there for the past hour, although part of that had been spent eating as it was now well after eight o'clock. They had just over three and a half hours before high tide and the sooner they closed the anomaly, the better.

The silence that ensues when great minds are thinking alike... ensued.

"I've got it!" The front two feet of Connor's chair slammed down on the floor of the Panorama Bar and he grabbed the ball he had been idly throwing from hand to hand. All eyes in the group turned to him.

"Why is it, right," he began, looking around the small circle of IT experts, "that a compass goes completely mental when it gets anywhere near an anomaly?"

"Anomalies have a strong magnetic field: we know that," Peta shrugged, looking puzzled.

"Yeah, but," Connor held up a finger to illustrate his point, "the needle doesn't just point towards the anomaly, or away from it: it goes round in circles or back and forth. Why?"

Five pairs of eyes looked blankly at him. Eventually light dawned in one pair.

"The field is unstable," Peta hazarded. "The polarity keeps changing?"

"Exactly!" Connor grinned triumphantly.

"Okay... But how does that help us control it?"

Connor's face fell slightly and his brow creased.

"Dunno," he shrugged. "Not yet, anyway." The grin returned. "But it's a start!"

XXXX

Abby stepped out of the lift and looked around the new control room. The meeting with Lester had gone as well as could be expected. She'd explained what the findings said. Jenny had backed her up. Lester had announced a state of rejoicing as it now appeared that at least there would be nothing to eat us alive while we drowned.

Cutter had stayed unusually quiet and pensive.

She was worried about him when he did that: it usually meant one of two things. Either he was thinking about how Stephen or Helen would react to the information they _had_, or he was thinking about what might be in the information they _hadn't_!

Abby wasn't quite sure which option was worse.

Shrugging off a feeling of unease that she hadn't felt since she had come face to face with her first Mer while hanging over the side a boat back in London, she resumed her surveying of the room in search of Connor, from whom Lester was anxious to have an update.

The ease with which her thoughts slipped from the encounter with the Mer to Connor brought Abby's mind round yet again to a moment that had plagued her memory since its occurrence. She took a deep breath and forced the memory from her, focussing on the task in hand.

The greatest buzz of activity seemed to be at the far end around the stage. She watched as the group split and started working on different things at different computers. As she had expected, Connor was at the centre of the group, gesticulating madly at the new anomaly detector and being watched reverentially by an equally hyper redhead.

"Oh, God! There's two of them!" Abby groaned.

She turned away. He was happiest when he had a new toy to play with and, by the looks of things, Connor and his new fan club had just had a minor breakthrough. She would have to go over there and drag him downstairs to Lester's office, but maybe not just yet. Besides: she needed to call Sam and tell him she wasn't going to be home for a bit and what to feed which lizards. She also needed to work out how to explain to him how to feed Rex!

XXXX

"Do you really think there's nothing there?" Becker asked, closing the door behind him as he returned to the office.

"I would be a fool to assume," Lester sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers, "that simply because we have not yet found anything, this means that there is nothing there."

"So what will you report to London?"

"Until we know more, the flood warning is our priority. We can worry about what might be _in_ the water once we've solved the problem of how to keep it _out_ of the country!"

Becker raised his eyebrows at this.

"So far our flood defences seem to be going well. The Thames barrier was raised at the first sign of trouble and has remained that way since. It's caused a bit of minor flooding when the tide tried to go out against it, but it's holding. What's more, it's keeping that water separate from the north sea, which stops any intrusion into it by whatever may or may not have come through the anomaly as well as preventing it joining with the north sea to exacerbate the higher tide.

Our other defences around the country also seem to be progressing steadily. We should have almost everywhere solidly sandbagged well before high tide. After that, it's just a case of making sure the defences hold."

"Almost everywhere?"

"Our weakest points are where the population is lowest: many hands make light work! Or where the geography itself poses a problem. Unfortunately, that means a large chunk of the land surrounding the Wash, where the defence wall is at threat of being undercut, and right here, where we simply do not have the manpower to keep up with the rest of the country. There are also fears that places such as Aldborough may suffer further erosion damage."

"You don't seem particularly worried that this base is on your list of weakest defences."

"We should be able to get our defences up to eight and a half meters with time to spare. The real issue is making the wall secure enough to hold under pressure, especially at the slipway."

"Hence the move upstairs."

"Quite."

Lester nodded, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Have you given thought to the possibility of a threat from micro-organisms?" Becker said, breaking Lester's concentration.

"It was the first thing to spring to mind when Miss Maitland delivered her conclusions."

"And if it is a microbiological threat?"

Lester shrugged. "As you know," he said, leaning back to resume twirling his pen, "I am not completely without experience of such things."

Becker nodded in agreement and the two men fell silent once more. Their air of quiet contemplation was broken by a sharp knock at the door.

"Enter!" Lester called.

A young secretary timidly but urgently stepped into the room.

"The Aplysia has returned to dock, Sir James," the young woman reported. "Captain Johnson is overseeing the unloading of equipment and samples."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"This is weird!" Abby exclaimed, holding up a piece of perfectly ordinary seaweed

"I know!" Cutter agreed, shaking his head and staring into the catch pool. "Completely unheard of!"

"I don't think we've seen anything like it!" Jenny sighed, crossing her arms.

"Utterly bizarre!" Abby muttered, dropping the seaweed.

"Everything's normal!" Cutter threw his hands up in disbelief.

XXXX

"You mean to tell me," Lester began, walking over to his office window and closing the blind, "that you cannot find a single thing that is out of place in this era?"

"Nothing!" Cutter replied. "Not one species that shouldn't be there!"

"Microscopic analysis?"

"Nothing unusual biologically, but a significant amount of gold found in suspension."

"What do the spectroscopy reports say?"

"The water appears to be higher in nutrients, such as sulphur, nitrogen and phosphorus, and in heavy metal salts."

"Well if there is anything in it at least we know what music it likes!"

"The lab report also says that there has been a rise in temperature: the water coming through the anomaly is significantly warmer than the north sea."

"Aren't most things?" Lester frowned and walked back over to his desk. "Now wait a minute," he said, "surely that doesn't fit? Connor's theory was that the other side of the anomaly is in a deeper water source than this side and therefore water was being pushed through by simple water pressure. If he's right, then surely the deep water should be colder than the shallow stuff?"

"Not necessarily," Cutter warned, spreading his hands out to emphasise his words. "The mineral content of the water suggests a particularly rich area of ocean. Those tend to occur around black smokers. They're..."

"Underwater volcanoes," Lester interrupted, sitting down behind his desk. "Yes, I know. They're supposed to be predominantly high in biodiversity aren't they?"

"As a consequence of the high nutrient content of the water, and the higher temperatures around them, yes."

"So why, when we have the water from around a black smoker, and we have the minerals from around a black smoker, do we not have the life from around a black smoker?"

XXXX

"So, what we need, right, is some kind of really strong electromagnet," Connor watched Becker's eyebrows slide up his forehead, but carried on regardless, "attached to a computer that can oscillate the polarity of the magnetic field in synchrony with the field oscillations of the anomaly but at the opposite polarities!"

"And in English?" Becker sighed.

"Just find us this stuff," Peta cut in shoving a list at the bemused Becker. "We'll do the rest."

Becker glanced down at the list and his eyebrows started to rise again.

"Where do you expect me to get this stuff?"

"I dunno," Connor shrugged. "Lester said you were the guy for requisitions, so here's our requisition slip."

"A directional electromagnet?"

"An old MRI scanner would probably do the trick," Peta suggested. "We could at least make use of the parts."

Becker sighed and nodded in half agreement. He'd found in the past it was easier just to nod and smile when scientists started trying to explain things to him. The true scientist, he found, spoke a language entirely their own, punctuated by enthusiastic grins and inane gesticulations and written in some form of hieroglyphic code. What was more, they seemed generally unable to understand that they were the only ones with any comprehension of this behaviour. He turned to go, then paused and turned back.

"How close to the anomaly would you have to get this thing?"

Connor and Peta exchanged a look.

"When we figure that out, we'll let you know."

XXXX

Abby swirled the seaweed around in the water of the blue-walled catch pool. She wasn't much of a fan of fish and was blind to the differences that Cutter was keen to point out between the different species. So far, she'd either worked out or remembered that mackerel were the ones with stripes and usually went about in shoals, cod had little barbels on their chins and sand eels were the little thin ones that you saw piled up in the beaks of puffins. Other than the ability to recognise the sharp end of a decapod and know how not to get soaked by a scallop, Abby's knowledge of the oceans was limited to swimming reptiles.

"So how are things?" Jenny's voice cut through Abby's reverie.

"Hmm?" Abby looked up.

"You seem somewhat..." Jenny shrugged, searching for the word. "Distracted."

"Since when have you been the caring, sharing type?" Abby replied.

"Well, you know: I am the PR person after all."

"Everything's fine, Jenny."

"Really? It sometimes seems that your mind isn't completely on the job."

"My mind is fine. I'm not the one standing here with a broken wrist."

Jenny glanced down at the back-slab keeping her left wrist rigid.

"Since we're on the subject of wandering minds," Abby continued, fixing Jenny with a daring glare, "where exactly was yours when I found you and Cutter in the hallway? Not on your 'work' that's for sure!"

Jenny held up her right hand in defeat. "Fine: have it your way," she said. "I just thought you might like to talk about it. To another woman, that is."

"There is nothing to talk about."

"If you say so."

"There isn't!"

"Abby, I've seen you watching him," Jenny sighed. "It's like when I first met the pair of you only the other way round!"

"You know nothing about Connor and you know nothing about me!"

"I know that unless you say something to him, the two of you will carry on dancing round each other indefinitely!"

"Now is not the time. Besides: he has a new project to work on and a new fan club to help him!"

"Ah, the IT specialists. Yes, I had heard that they were looking forward to meeting him. He seems to be something of an idol for them."

"A prince among geeks!"

"Something like that."

"Who's the girl?"

"There's a girl?"

"Yeah: red hair, green jumper, taller than me, wears a hat."

"Can't say I've met her. Becker picked the team though: have a word with him. Why? Is she not pulling her weight?"

"Quite the opposite!" Abby pulled a face.

Jenny laughed. "You're jealous! Why? What has she done?"

"Nothing!" Abby replied, embarrassed, "I'm not jealous of some geek!"

"Ah, I see," Jenny's face took on an amused, knowing, smile.

"What?"

"She's a geek. Connor's a geek. No, let's face it: he really is. And you're worried he'll work out that he has more in common with her than with you!"

"That's ridiculous!"

"Of course it is: Connor's so wrapped up in trying to figure out the anomalies, he probably hasn't even noticed there's a girl in the group!"

"She leads the group."

"All the same."

"He was introduced to her."

"So?"

"She invented the new anomaly detector."

"Ah."

XXXX

"Yes, Ma'am. Understood."

The cleaner pocketed his mobile and adjusted his reflection in the bathroom mirror. So far so good. He'd been worried when he spotted the boy on the top floor, but he'd been too busy staring at the floor to notice him.

The bug was in place. It was transmitting. He knew everything that was going on in the control room, as did his commander and her team. Now he had his orders.

They were very simple.

XXXX

Abby had resumed her idle playing with the seaweed in the water. It was funny to watch the smaller creatures dart out of the way of the swirling mass of algae. One or two were actually following it, trying to stay in its shadow. She stretched out her hand towards the centre of the pool, away from the shelter of the blue sides where most of the creatures congregated.

Suddenly, she drew her hand back in pain.

"Ow!" Abby brought her hand up and examined a cut in the tip of her middle finger.

"What happened?" Jenny asked, looking up.

"I don't know!" Abby shrugged. "There's nothing in there _that_ sharp!"

"Part of the seaweed maybe?"

"No..." Abby stopped, staring at the still swirling mass of seaweed in the centre of the pool. Something wasn't right about it. It looked bigger. The small fish following it were gone.

"What is it?" Jenny asked, following Abby's gaze.

"I don't know," Abby repeated, "but I'm going to find out. Pass me that net."

Jenny turned round and located one of the small, stem-handled hand nets they had been using to separate smaller items out of the catch for a closer look. She picked it up and passed it to Abby.

Taking the net, Abby turned it around and used the handle to prod the seaweed. The seaweed moved. So did the rest of it. She hooked the handle under a piece of seaweed and lifted it out of the water. The other piece of seaweed disappeared.

"Abby?" Jenny's tone was full of warnings.

"It's okay," Abby said quietly. "Whatever it is, it's still a fish so it can't get out of the tank."

"How can you be so sure?"

Abby prodded the clear space in the centre of the pool. The handle of the net met something at the bottom of the tank. She prodded again. This time the handle dislodged something and a thin trail of blood rose up from a small piece of disembodied flesh.

Within seconds, Abby's net handle was shoved out of the way by something unseen and the small patch of flesh widened to slowly reveal part of the shape of a fish. Abby waved a hand at Jenny for another net and, using handle to beat off the competition and the new net to lift the hapless victim, she dragged the fish out of the pool.

She dropped the deceased creature into a dry bucket. Grabbing what was nearest, Abby covered it with a nearby towel, pressing down around the body of the fish to make sure she had only removed one passenger in her net. The towel showed up the silhouette of one whole fish, slightly ragged around the edges. When she lifted it, however, all that was visible was the area of torn flesh, still floating eerily above the base of the bucket. Abby looked over at Jenny, the shock visible in her face.

"Get Cutter," she said.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Lester felt uncomfortably claustrophobic. He always did at times like these: surrounded by various experts all trying to explain points it would probably take him years to understand as they did.

"So if we just oscillate the polarity of our magnet at exactly the same strength and speed as the anomaly," Connor was saying, "but at the opposite timing: we could cancel out the anomaly altogether!"

"Then why is my gut telling me," Lester began, "and I know I shall regret using the phrase, that this seems just a little too simple?"

"Ah, well," Cutter interrupted. "You see we have three main problems."

"Only three?" Lester smirked.

"Firstly," Cutter began, counting the items off on his fingers and ignoring Lester, "we need something at least twice the size of a normal MRI scanner to fit the anomaly inside. Secondly, we need to completely surround the anomaly, so the closer we get, the smaller the machine can be, but then we actually need to get that close to it."

"And thirdly?"

"Thirdly," Cutter sighed and threw up his hands. "This is almost entirely theoretical physics. It's not my area of expertise so I have no idea if Connor's theory is even close to what we need."

"When you say _almost entirely_, what exactly do you mean?" Lester queried, leaning forwards and turning his attention back to Connor.

"It's something called 'magnetic pinching'," Connor began, holding up his hands to form a hollow ball shape. "You surround the thing you want to squeeze with a repelling magnetic force, and the magnetic repulsion does the job for you. Only because the anomaly's polarity keeps changing, we've got to change with it."

"And has anything like this been done before?"

"Well, Doc Oc used something similar in Spiderman 2..."

"In the real world, Connor!"

"The closest would probably be a system they've used over in New Mexico. It's called the Sandia system. It's used to confine plasmas, I think. Like gases that have been ionised, given an electrical charge. I remember looking into it back when Spiderman 2 first came out."

"How does that compare with what we're trying to do here?"

"Well, the basic physics is the same, but the scale is hugely different."

"And how does your theory suggest this will work?"

"Well, the magnetic fields will repel each other, so whichever is the stronger one will push the other away. If they're both the same strength, they should hold steady. If the anomaly is stronger, though, it will push the machine away from it. On the other hand, right: if our machine is stronger, then it'll push the anomaly back in on itself until it closes. Or forms a black hole of course, but that's just a minor possibility..."

"Forgive my ignorance, Connor," Lester interrupted, "but am I not right in thinking that a 'black hole' is not the ideal thing to have in the middle of the North Sea?"

"Regardless of the outcome," Cutter snapped, "it's all academic if we can't figure out a way to get the equipment we need and _then_ get it to the anomaly!"

"So what do you suggest we do professor?"

"For now, we let Connor work on his magnetic squeezing machine..."

"An imploder," Connor interrupted, testily. "It's called an imploder."

"His imploder, then. And while he's doing that, we try to figure out how many of these invisible fish we've got on our hands!"

"Any suggestion on how to spot something that's invisible, then?" Lester turned his attention back to Cutter.

"Technically it's not invisible," Abby cut in, from her place on the far side of the office where the army medic who had dealt with Jenny's wrist was now attempting to clean and bandage the wound in Abby's hand. "You just can't see it very easily."

"How is that different?" Lester sighed.

"It's like a black cat in a coal cellar," Abby explained, "the fish's scales mirror its surroundings, so that it blends into the background. When you're completely surrounded by water, as far as can be seen, or by seaweed of some kind, that's a pretty effective defence."

"I thought there was no light that far down?" Becker mused from his corner.

"No sunlight," Cutter corrected him, "but there is light. Many plants and animals from the deeper parts of our oceans make their own light. We know very little about how the ability evolved, but then we know very little about anything below diving or submarine levels."

"'We know less about the bottom of our oceans than we do about the surface of our moon.'" Lester quoted, thoughtfully. "So what else do we know about these 'mirror fish' then?"

"Their body shape and the angle of their scales means that they're not the type of mirror you could easily see your face in. The light you see will be reflected from the side, not above, kind of like in a periscope, but the other way round. Their teeth are exceptionally sharp and their jaws are very muscular and strong. They resemble South American piranhas in many ways and I would definitely put them, at least for the moment, in the same family: the 'Serrasalminae'. They seem to react to blood, not movement or light, and don't seem choosy in their choice of meals."

Lester nodded, taking in all the information and filing it away for future reference.

"So we currently have an anomaly that we cannot close spewing tones of invisible piranha infested water on our doorstep and indeed that of every country bordering the North Sea, Baltic Sea, Arctic Ocean and eventually Atlantic Ocean and beyond." Lester nodded. "I don't suppose you have any idea what era these creatures are from?"

"None." Cutter shook his head. "Sorry."

The room fell into an uneasy silence that was broken only a moment later by a sharp knock at the door.

"Come in!" Lester called.

A young man in military uniform walked into the room and saluted. Connor recognised him as one of the military personnel from the boat he had seen on the plasma screen upstairs.

"Ah, Sergeant Collins," Lester addressed the newcomer, "please tell me you have some good news for me. Professor Cutter has never seemed quite able to get the hang of that."

"The anomaly has closed, sir." Collins replied. "Initial findings also indicate that although the water level is still rising, the rate at which is doing so has slowed to normal."

"There, you see!" Lester waved a hand at the sergeant and looked over to Cutter, who rolled his eyes and turned away. "That's good news! Watch and learn, Professor. Watch and learn."

"We have also begun evacuating all personnel to the upper floors, sir." Collins continued, glancing sideways at Cutter. "You're new office has been prepared and is ready for you."

"Excellent work, sergeant," Lester said. "We shall follow you up as soon as we are done here."

Thus dismissed, Sergeant Collins left the room. All eyes looked over to the medic.

"How is it?" Becker asked, as Connor took a step forward to say the same thing.

"I'd rather stitch it than use this stuff, but we'd need something to sterilise the needle in: alcohol, a gas flame. Preferably both."

"There should be both in the kitchens," Jenny said. "They always have those blowtorches for things like crème brûlée."

"I'll go," Connor cut in, moving towards the door before Becker could say anything.

XXXX

It was quiet now that the kitchen staff, along with almost everyone else, had been moved upstairs. The atmosphere in the deserted room was eerie. Almost like when those kids get stuck in that kitchen in Jurassic Park, thought Connor. He crept through the aisles of stainless steel surfaces, turning suddenly to check each one for imaginary velociraptors.

Finally, he spotted the blowtorch, hanging up next to some ladles. There was a first aid kit nearby, so he took that too, stuffing it into the single pocket that stretched across the front of his hooded jersey. After cautiously checking the cupboards and drawers, he found a bottle of brandy. It was half full. It would do.

Connor smiled happily and shifted the weight of the bottle in his hand. He was at the opposite end of the kitchen from where he had started, just beyond the old fashioned serving hatch he had leaned through hours ago when he came down to order some pizza for his new team upstairs.

He turned to go...

...and came face to face with the Cleaner.

The bottle of brandy fell to the floor and smashed.

XXXX

"With all due respect, Sir James," Becker interrupted the flow of animated conversation between Cutter and Lester, "we are nearly at high tide. The walls have held so far, but with the increasing pressure, they are starting to show signs of weakening. They could fail at any moment. We should move now and Connor can catch up with us."

"You can't just leave him hunting around in the kitchens for stuff while we all pile upstairs out of the way!" Abby shouted.

"I'll go and get him," Becker said placatingly, "but right now, I need to get the majority of people still on this level, and that is simply everyone in this room, to move upstairs!"

"I agree," Jenny added, "There's no point in us just sitting here waiting for Connor to get back. We'll go upstairs now and Becker will go and get Connor."

Abby sighed. She looked around the room for support but, finding none, nodded and rose to her feet. Jenny led the way, followed by Abby , the medic and Cutter. Lester and Becker brought up the rear of the small group.

"I don't care whether he's got the stuff or not," Lester said quietly to Becker as the group moved across the hall, "get him out of there. It may not seem like much, but right now he's our best chance at controlling these things. He can play the hero some other day."

Becker nodded and headed in the direction of the kitchens.

XXXX

Connor swallowed nervously. Right in front of him was a man who should be dead and whose appearances in the past had never boded well. What was more: he had a gun, and it was pointed directly at Connor's forehead.

"I believe you have something I want," the Cleaner rasped.

"Do I?" Connor fought to keep his voice steady.

"A program. It's on the memory stick in your pocket."

Connor frowned. The Cleaner explained.

"I set up a little observation post in your bar," he said. "Quite literally, in fact. It sees, it listens, it records, it transmits, and it's only the size of the head of a nail. Amazing what the future holds, isn't it?"

"Hang on: if you've got access to future technology, then why don't you just get this program from the future?" Connor asked.

"Well for a start you're assuming that we only want it to use it ourselves," the Cleaner reasoned. "Whereas actually, we just don't want you lot to have it."

"But I can always rewrite it..."

"Not if you're dead."

"All right, so why haven't you killed me yet then?" Connor was getting confused now, but it was clear that the longer he kept the man talking, the more likely it was that someone would come looking for him. "If I don't give you the program, I'm dead, but you're going to kill me when I hand it over anyway?"

"Not necessarily."

"Oh?"

"We have an offer for you."

XXXX

Abby allowed herself to be led up the stairs and into the second floor library. The library had been turned into Lester's new office and he immediately began rearranging things to his satisfaction. Abby sighed and walked over to the window. She was soon followed by Cutter.

"What do you think?" Cutter asked her. "Past or future?"

"You're the expert!"

"Not in this, I'm not." Cutter shook his head. "I don't think anyone is really. We know so little about abyssal ecosystems."

"What does the fossil record say?" Abby turned her gaze on the professor.

"Serrasalminae fossils first appeared around about the Miocene era, twenty three million years ago. That's much closer to our time than anything we've handled before, at least from the past. Around about that time, the Earth was covered in plains and grassland and grazing mammals were plentiful. Not even the early hominids had evolved, but forty two million years had passed since the end of the dinosaurs."

Abby looked back at the view from the window.

"Cutter," she said.

"Hmm?"

"The wall's coming down!"

XXXX

"Somehow, I don't think you're about to make me an offer I can't refuse," Connor quipped.

"Like I said," the Cleaner nodded, "you have a choice."

"I'm not switching sides," Connor shifted the weight of the blowtorch in his hand and wondered how quickly he could ignite it.

"Ah well," the Cleaner released the safety catch on his gun, "the pen drive is easier to carry back anyway."

Connor held his breath, waiting for the moment to arrive. He heard a crack from the serving hatch and watched a look of shock grow on the Cleaner's face. He ducked.

XXXX

Becker pushed himself out of the way as the water piled through the main doors and lower windows of the hotel. So far he had narrowly avoided three desks, five chairs and a deadly looking shard of glass from one of the windows. The kitchen door was now in sight.

Forcing himself through the growing swell, he dragged his way to the door and pushed himself through it. The water was above the level of the worktops now. He climbed up on one for a better view, and to escape the eddying currents swirling through the doorway.

From his new vantage point, he could see a body lying across the windows at the far end of the room. It wasn't Connor, though. He made his way towards it. It was the body of a large man, apparently one of the kitchen staff. The scarf around his neck was stained red with blood where a wooden spar had gone straight through it.

Becker looked around him. The windows at that end of the kitchen were gone completely and, trapped between the body and their broken frame, was Connor's hat.


	9. Chapter 9

A.N. I would strongly suggest that, if you have not yet read Stormy Weather, you do so before you read Chapter 10!

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Abby ran. Out the door. Down the corridor. One flight of stairs. Two flights. First floor. One more flight. Turn the corner. Stop. Water. No Connor. No Becker.

Abby paused for only a second, then dived forward. Before she reached the water, two pairs of arms grabbed her and pulled her back. Cutter and the medic. Behind them stood Jenny and Lester.

"No!" Abby screamed. Cutter wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides and lifting her off the floor. She kicked out with her feet.

"Where is he?" Abby shouted, struggling to get out of Cutter's grasp.

"Calm down!" Cutter gasped, wincing as his shins took yet another blow from Abby's heels.

"If you don't calm down," the medic cut in, grabbing hold of Abby's flailing legs, "you're going to reopen that wound!"

"I... Don't... Care!"

Lester pushed his way past the struggling trio.

"BECKER!" Lester shouted, scanning the paper strewn surface of the water.

"Never mind him, what about Connor!" Cutter called over. Lester ignored him.

"BECKER!" Jenny noticed a trace of panic in Lester's voice. "JAMES!"

"CONNOR!" Cutter and Abby joined in. Jenny looked from Lester, to Nick, then back to the water. She frowned.

"Look," Jenny said, hurrying to Lester's side. "There."

Lester, and the others, followed the line of her outstretched arm. She was pointing at the corridor to the kitchens. The end of the corridor was just visible around the edge of the stairwell. The lights had gone out, darkening the windowless corridor, but a disturbance in the water could be seen emerging from the near end.

"Let... Me... Go!" Abby cried, trying to wriggle out of the now solid grasp of the two men. "Connor!"

Everyone else held their breath, watching the distant corner of the hall into which the corridor emerged. Lester's sigh was audible when Becker appeared from the darkness.

The captain fought his way through the steady current that forced him back against the far wall. He edged his way along until he was level with the stairs.

"James," Lester called out, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Becker called back. "Just a little out of breath."

"Come on," Lester held out his hand, holding on to the bannister for support. "Grab my hand."

The group watched as Becker pushed his way through the water to within reach of Lester's outstretched arm. The water was up to his chest now. He lifted one arm out of the water and grabbed Lester's, pulling himself up onto the stairs.

"Oh no," Abby whimpered.

Cutter looked down at his friend, then followed her gaze. He saw the hat in Becker's other hand.

"Tell me that didn't come off a body!" Cutter's tone was icy as he stared at the hat.

Becker, gasping for air, looked at the hat in his hand as if he had forgotten it was there.

"No," he said, finally, "No, it was all I could find. Of Connor at least."

XXXX

Helen Cutter watched a small red dot fade and disappear on a monitor. It marked the extinction of a life. She smiled. It was amazing what technology you could find in the future these days.

Ah well, no matter. The present could easily be changed. She knew that. The changes could be controlled too. She wasn't in complete control of them yet, but she was getting better with practice.

She turned her back on the monitor. Something else would have to be done now. A new plan was needed. The waters had broken through and washed away her hope of retrieving the control program. There was still hope, though. The program may have to be rewritten. That would delay their discovery somewhat, giving her time to make her next move. She looked around her at the army of minions carrying out the mundane tasks of maintaining her laboratory. She let her gaze rest on one man and smiled.

Death meant little to Helen Cutter, as long as it wasn't her own.

XXXX

"You cannot go charging into piranha infested waters, Miss Maitland!" Lester's tone was authoritative and direct.

"He's right, Abby," Jenny sounded gentle and placating.

"Those things can detect blood as easily as you or I could see a candle in a coal cellar: you'd be ripped to shreds before you got out of the stairwell." Cutter's voice was cool and logical.

Abby Maitland stared at the floor and rocked gently on her chair.

"No," she murmured, "No. He's not dead. We have to find him. He's not dead. I'd know," Abby looked at Jenny hopefully, "I would, wouldn't I? I'd know if he was gone?"

Jenny glanced at the others surrounding Abby's chair, each one half alert and ready to catch her should she make a break for the door again.

"I think," said Lester quietly, "that we have to face up to the likelihood that Mr Temple will not be coming back."

"NO!" Abby cried, dissolving into tears. Cutter wrapped his arms around her again, as much to comfort her as to prevent her running off. He looked up at Lester and Lester took his meaning immediately.

"We're going to need a sedative," Lester said to the medic. "Make sure it'll knock her out for at least a few hours. Send someone for Jones and her team."

The medic nodded and hurried towards the door, pausing to give an order to one of the guards on the other side of it before disappearing in the opposite direction.

Lester watched the door swing shut, then turned to Becker.

"Now," he said, "Tell me exactly what you found in the kitchen."

Becker nodded thoughtfully, then began to describe in detail the scene that had met his eyes as he arrived in the kitchen. He told them about the body of the man trapped against the windows. He described the cleaner in detail and when he mentioned a scar on the dead man's neck, Nick looked up sharply.

"Him again!"

"What is it?" Jenny asked.

"That sounds remarkably like the cleaner from the mall. The man I ran into down by the canal, when Abby was taken by those future mer-creatures."

A sob escaped Abby as her own thoughts flew back to that particular episode of her life.

"What does this mean?" Lester asked, holding Cutter's gaze.

"It means one of two things," Cutter replied, looking away. "Either Leek is back from the dead or," he paused and looked Lester straight in the eye, "Helen's back in town."

XXXX

Jenny stepped up to Nick's side as they watched two military personnel carry a sleeping and stretcher bound Abby out of the library.

"I'm sorry about Connor," she said.

"I've learnt that, when Helen's around, it's best not to count your casualties until you have the bodies in front of you," Cutter replied without turning round. "I wouldn't be surprised if even then you need to keep checking!"

"Do you think she'll be alright?"

"Helen?" Cutter looked round, puzzled.

"No, Abby," Jenny explained.

"She's strong. She'll get through it. I wouldn't like to be Helen if the two of them ever come face to face though."

"You think she's behind this?"

"Maybe not the anomaly or the effect it's having, but the sheer presence of that cleaner guy in the kitchen does suggest she has something to do with Connor's disappearance."

"You really think there's a chance he's not dead?"

"I don't know what to think," Nick shrugged. "Logically, I can think of a dozen different possibilities of what may or may not have happened down in that kitchen. Very few of them include a decent chance of survival."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Water hissed through the edges of the cupboard doors. It was a slow process, but nothing could be done now. Not until the cupboard was full.

XXXX

The library was silent, as libraries so often are. This library, however, was no longer a place of peaceful literary contemplation and study. It was the room in which five people were working out how to save the world.

"So what you're telling me," Lester said, his quiet voice resounding like thunder in the aural vacuum of the library, "is that the entire program is a jigsaw. It's parts written by the various members of your staff, yourself and the late Mr Temple. It was put together on a memory stick, which is, at present in Mr Temple's waistcoat pocket. You do however, have every part of the jigsaw except the one which Mr Temple himself wrote, which was written, unfortunately, directly onto said memory stick."

"That about sums it up, yes," Peta replied.

"Can you reconstruct the missing section?" Lester asked.

"In time, yes," Peta nodded, "I discussed the individual outcomes of the program at length with Connor. I should be able to reproduce my own version of the missing piece."

"But if the anomaly is already closed," Cutter interrupted, "what's the point?"

"How many times, Professor Cutter," Lester snapped, "has an anomaly reopened? I want to be as equipped as possible to deal with any such occurrence."

"Don't you think we've got more important things to worry about? An ocean full of invisible piranhas for a start!"

Lester sighed and rolled his eyes. Why did scientists have to be so impulsive? Why couldn't they just think logically for ones?

"Tell me, Professor," he said, wearily. "Do you have any idea what to do about these creatures? How to round them up? How to catch them? How to kill them? Perhaps how to build a big wall around the North Sea to stop them getting out?" Cutter shook his head. Lester continued. "And do you think that a team of IT specialists are going to come up with the answers to all of those questions any time soon?" Again, Cutter shook his head. Lester nodded triumphantly. "Then will you please allow me to allocate purposeful employment to those most able to do something constructive. You are free to spend your time worrying about the things we cannot change, please allow me the courage to change the things we can. One of us has to have the wisdom to know the difference!"

XXXX

Abby frowned in her sleep. On the edge of her consciousness, she was aware of the rain spattering against the window of her room and the wind rattling branches and cables against the window and outer wall. Within her drugged slumber, however, they were no longer a part of the real world, but morphic form haunting her mind.

XXXX

The water was rising faster now. It was almost up to his chin. It weighed heavily on his chest, pressing him back against the wall of the cupboard. He forced himself to breathe slowly. Oxygen was a precious commodity. Beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead. The influx of water, blocking any escape for the air in the cupboard, had gradually increased both the pressure and the temperature within. It meant he would be left with some air at the top of the cupboard, but the oxygen in that air was gradually being replaced with carbon dioxide. What was more, as soon as the pressure on either side of the door was equal, he would be opening it and watching that precious air bubble upward faster than he could follow it. He had no idea how much water pressed down on his hiding place from above.

XXXX

"What _have_ we got to work from?" Jenny asked as Lester followed Peta upstairs to brief her team.

"I had my teams bring up what we could from the research room," Becker shrugged, "That's as good a place to start as any."

"We don't have any of the fish," said Cutter. "They escaped when the water reached their tank."

"That wasn't the only tank though. The Aplysia brought in five sample tanks. Two of them, the one you were studying and another, are still downstairs and whatever was in them is now revelling in its new found freedom. The other three, though, are upstairs."

Nick Cutter looked from Becker to Jenny then back again. His face lit up.

"You're a genius, man! Take me to those tanks!"

XXXX

"So, talk me through this program er..." Lester paused to look at the name badge on the young man's jumper. "Nigel."

"Well, Sir James," Nigel began, pointing up at the top corner of the anomaly detector where a graph was busily doing an impression of an oscilloscope. "This graph shows the magnetic polarity of the anomaly. As you can see, the polarity reverses fairly regularly. The first thing we did when Mr Temple explained his idea was program in this graph to see if his hypothesis was right. This graph tells us that, at least as far as the reversals go, he was spot on."

"Is it usual for magnetic fields to reverse themselves like this?"

"That depends on the magnet. Your average bar magnet that you play with in science club isn't going to do it, but the Earth's magnetic field does."

"Really? Why haven't I noticed?"

"Well it only does it once every couple of hundred thousand years."

"So often? However did you scientists manage to find that out?"

"Oh, it's all in the rocks," Nigel breezed past Lester's sarcasm. "Anyway. We, sorry, Mr Temple, thought the same thing might be happening with the anomalies and it was."

"So where do we go from here?"

"Well, the second part of the Temple theory states that an alternative magnetic impulse fluctuating at the same rate as the anomaly, but in reversal, should cancel out the magnetic field and therefore annihilate any physical extension of the field."

Lester paused, thinking through Nigel's enthusiastic explanation and trying to put the words in an order that made sense. He gave up.

"What?" Lester sighed.

"Imagine you have a set of scales, or a seesaw, and the weight on one side keeps changing. You want to keep the seesaw level, so what do you do?"

"Put a big brick under my side."

Now it was Nigel's turn to roll his eyes.

"No, that's not an option," he said with the impatient patience of a child trying to teach it's younger sibling not to cheat at hide and seek. "You respond to changes in the situation. When the weight on the far end of the seesaw is large, you make your weight light. When the weight lessens at the far end, you increase it at yours."

"Which you can only do if you know when the weight is going to change and by how much," Lester finished.

Nigel smiled, cheered that light had finally dawned.

"Exactly," he said. "And this graph tells us just that."

"So the program?"

"It controls the 'weight' on our end of the 'seesaw'," Nigel made air quotes around the two words he had borrowed from his analogy, eager to keep Lester on track. Lester bit his tongue and waited for further explanation, preferably without air quotes.

"What," he said, when no more was forthcoming, "is that all?"

"You did say you wanted the short version!"

XXXX

He pressed his forehead and nose to the ceiling of the cupboard, gulping in what might be his last breath of air. The pressure was equal now: the water had stopped pouring in. The only thing that had stopped the last remnants of air pouring out had been the overhang of the cupboard door: the part that held the sliding door on its upper runners. He took a final breath and sank into the water. The door slid back easily now, giving him enough space to slide out into the flooded kitchen. He felt something brush past him as his natural buoyancy dragged him to the surface.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Light, sound and air came rushing back to Connor as he surfaced. For a moment he paused, treading water, getting his breath back. He drew a hand over his face and shook his head, the spray from his hair creating a shimmer of ripples across the surface of the water.

He looked around him. There was the top of the serving hatch, minus its central wooden support beam. There was the door to the corridor. Where was the Cleaner? He turned in a slow circle, treading water and steering himself with his hands, looking for his erstwhile adversary. There he was. Over by the window.

The moon was up now and its light shone through the window, illuminating the grisly scene in a pallid spotlight. Connor let himself drift closer. As he drew near, he could make out the wooden beam protruding solidly from the Cleaner's neck. He never had had much luck with neck wounds, thought Connor.

The cleaner was definitely dead, he decided. If the glassy eyes and bloodless skin wasn't enough, the sight of chunks of that skin disappearing around the edge that neck wound confirmed it. Connor couldn't see the fish, especially not in this light, but he could see where they'd been and what they were doing. He pulled a face in disgust and turned away, glad of the chance to escape the creatures' notice.

A mild current dragged Connor back and forth in the water. It was well past midnight, he guessed, so the tide must be heading back out. That was good: it would help him get back to the stairs. Kicking out with his feet, he swam back to the kitchen door, dived under it, and headed back along the darkened corridor.

XXXX

"Are you sure it's dead?" Jenny asked, peering hesitantly over Cutter's shoulder.

"I've just stuck a metal bar through it's head, woman!" Cutter replied, "How much more dead do you want it to be?"

Jenny raised an eyebrow at his exasperated tone and stepped closer to the dissecting table. Her arms remained locked together, though, and she refused to touch the table - just in case.

"So what's your verdict?" Becker cut in as Cutter peeled back the shimmering scales.

"Not much more than it was previously," Cutter replied, "Although the general body shape would normally be much smaller at depth."

"How do you work that out?"

"The swim bladder: it's unusually elastic. That's probably why they have survived the change in pressure."

"What do you mean?" Jenny asked.

"Fish have this bit inside of them called a swim bladder, right?" Cutter turned to face Jenny as he explained. "Now a swim bladder is basically just an organic balloon. It's filled with gas. The fish use it as a buoyancy aid. Down in the abyssal planes, it might be something like this." He balled one hand into a fist, held it up in front of him and covered it with his other hand. "But if the fish moves up to a shallower depth, where there's less pressure, it expands, like this." He pulled his hands apart, spreading the fingers to show the area between them expanding. "Usually, because they only move up the water column slowly, the fish is able to get rid of some of that excess gas to keep the swim bladder in check. When a fish is brought up artificially, however, like with a trawl net or by a research team, the drop in pressure can happen so quickly that the swim bladder over inflates and kills the fish."

"But that hasn't happened with these ones," Jenny stated, making sure she was following the narrative.

"No," Cutter replied, dropping his hands. "These guys have survived an immense and more or less instantaneous pressure change. The reason for it is simply their swim bladders. They are both more extendible and more able to get rid of gas quickly."

"Is that the only new piece of information we have?" Becker asked, tearing Cutter's attention away from Jenny.

"No, not the only piece," Cutter conceded. "It's difficult to tell, but the lateral line seems to be less well developed in this species. That's probably why it reacts more to blood than to vibrations. It also suggests that this serrasalminid is more of a scavenger than a predator, which should be good news to Lester."

"I'll let him know. Anything else?"

"Yes, there is one thing," Cutter reached out and grabbed an odd looking torch from a nearby bench. "I thought I saw something like this when the lights went out and someone switched on one of these by mistake," he looked up to see understanding on Becker's face, but confusion on Jenny's. "It's a UV torch. It shows up things that reflect ultra violet light, link blood at a crime scene." Jenny nodded, confusion subsiding.

"And the fish reflects it too," she stated.

In answer, Cutter nodded to one of the guards, who switched off the lights, plunging the room into darkness. Jenny saw the weird purplish light flicker on in Cutter's hand, then saw the same light reflected by the splayed fish on the dissecting board. Looking around her at the tanks, she saw faint lilac glows rebounding back to her eyes from each fish in the tanks. She counted thirteen, the glow from each strengthening then fading as Cutter moved the torch about the room.

The UV light disappeared and the usual room lights flicked back on.

"I think you can tell Lester we've found a way to spot the fish," Cutter told Becker. "It'll have to be done at night and it might take a while, but as long as nobody goes swimming with an open wound, they should be fine."

"Perhaps the rumour of an untreated sewage leak would prevent that," suggested Jenny.

Becker nodded and left the room. Nick turned back to the fish and prodded the bladder. A spurt of spray bubbled out of its mouth.

"I'm sorry about Connor," Jenny said, her voice soft.

"Don't be. He's not gone."

"How can you be sure?"

"I can't. But Abby was. I've seen that kind of certainty. I've lived it. I spent eight years living it. I was right. I believe Abby will be too."

"What you said, then, in that cell, about Helen: was it true?"

Nick shrugged.

"Maybe, partly anyway. The bit about us sharing something: that was certainly true. But we lost that. I don't know how or when, but one day it was just gone, and so was she."

"You really don't have much luck with women, do you."

"Nope. Never have been, never will."

"Don't lose all hope. Just because we can visit the future now doesn't mean we can predict it," Jenny smiled and pulled a face before adding: "I think."

"What is it they say? Third time lucky?" Nick laughed cynically, "Yeah, well, we'll see."

XXXX

"Captain Becker, sir," the voice crackled through the radio, "We can hear something approaching the stairs."

"Any visual?" Becker replied, turning away from the group of scientists who were avidly describing the inner working of a black hole to Lester.

"Negative," came the reply.

"I'm on my way," Becker replied. "Keep me informed."

Glancing back at Lester, wondering if the geeks would be quite so enthusiastic if they knew just how much Lester really understood about the world, Becker headed over to the stairs.

He was already a full flight down when the call came through that the noisy approach was being made by Connor Temple. By the time he reached the half landing between the first and ground floors, Connor was already dripping on the carpet. The bedraggled palaeontologist looked up an Becker through strands of wet, black hair.

"I don't suppose you've seen my hat?"

XXXX

"You're sure it was him!" Cutter's eyes widened when he heard Connor's story and he couldn't help interrupting at the first mention of the Cleaner.

"The guy was pointing a gun at my head," Connor replied, "He was fairly difficult to miss."

"But that's impossible!" Cutter cried, throwing up his hands.

"Why?" Jenny asked, watching him carefully.

"I watched him die!" Cutter exclaimed. "Back in the Silurian. When Ste... When Stephen and I went through to get that little girl. The Cleaner guy there. We watched him get eaten by a scorpion. All of us."

"Well, somehow, I watched him die again today," Connor said steadily. "Well, yesterday, I suppose," he shrugged, "but the point is: you can't usually die twice!"

"So what?" Becker cut in. "This guy has a twin, maybe? Or perhaps he survived his encounter with the scorpion."

"No, it was the same guy." Connor shrugged again. "He had the same scar and everything."

Lester had been standing with his back to the group, quite quietly. Now he turned round.

"Please feel free to correct me if my logic goes astray," he said, "but the evidence of our eyes, which, I might add, I am inclined to believe, tells us that this man has died twice. That being the case, it is necessary to believe that either he has survived his previous encounter with death or, and this is where the story really starts, he exists in two timelines."

Cutter's jaw dropped. Becker and Jenny looked confused. Connor looked impressed.

"You've been talking to Nigel," Connor grinned.

"Is it that obvious?" Lester replied sardonically.

"Will somebody tell me what's going on?" Cutter pleaded.

"Nigel's got this theory, right," Connor sniffed, "that if you could control the anomalies, you could go back in time and meet yourself, like, ten times over. Creates one heck of a paradox but there's no good reason why, if you could control them, it wouldn't work."

"Or, more to the point," Lester interrupted, "you could move from one part of a much larger timeline to another and remove other people from them many times over. As you yourself have found out, Professor Cutter, when you step away from a timeline, and do something that changes it, when you step back in you are still the same yourself, the world has just changed around you. Now the last time I checked your suspicions indicated that you had thought this man to be working for me, but then changed your mind when you discovered Leek to be the traitor. I am of the opinion that he worked for neither myself nor Leek. Who else do we know with extensive experience of time travel through the anomalies?"

"Helen," Cutter said, looking at the ceiling. "Of course."

XXXX

Connor trudged damply along the corridor on the third floor. Eventually he reached his door and nodded to the guard who stepped aside to let him pass. He opened the door and stepped inside. The guard inside saluted and left the room, joining his counterpart outwith the door.

"It's alright: I'll keep and eye on her," Connor told them. They saluted again and headed off to join the others downstairs.

Connor closed the door gently and turned round. He was tired, cold, hungry and soaked to the skin, but something childish and giggly wanted to burst out laughing and dance around the room. It was stupid, really stupid, but he couldn't help it. They had to sedate her, actually knock her out, to stop her going after him! Surely, God, please, surely, he prayed, there must be hope in that!

He laughed silently to himself and leaned back against the door, a stupid grin plastered on his face. He looked across at Abby sleeping fitfully on the bed. He wouldn't wake her, not yet: not looking like this. He made his way over to his own bed and tipped the contents out of the bag Becker had found for them. He didn't really care what clothes Becker had requisitioned, as long as they were dry. Grabbing the things he needed, he hurried off to the shower in the en suite bathroom.

Ten minutes later, while pulling a t-shirt over his still damp, but at least now clean, hair, Connor heard a noise from the outer room and hurried back through. Abby's fitful sleep had descended into some sort of nightmare and her face had become a mask of panic and terror. He crossed the room, calling out her name. When he reached the bed and sat down next to her, she was still in the hold of the dream, her arms thrashing out as she turned from side to side. Connor grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

"Abby," he called, "Abby!"

Suddenly she sat up, awake and breathing heavily. She stared at him for a moment, confused.

"Connor," she gasped, shaking her head, "No, not again. No, no, no, no..."

Connor grabbed her shoulders and held her still.

"Abby? Abby! It's okay! You're awake. It's me."

"You were dead."

"But I'm not. It was just a dream."

"But they said you were dead. Becker, Lester..."

"They were wrong."

"I was so sure they were... then I was asleep... and I dreamt... I dreamt..."

"It was just a dream. Abby. Abby, look at me." Abby met his gaze. "I am right here. Right here in front of you, okay. I'm fine. I'm not hurt. I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere." Connor's face broke into a grin. "You didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?"

Abby laughed, despite herself, and threw her arms around his neck. Connor's grin was infectious. It always was. It was one of the things she loved about him.

FINI


	12. Series 4

Episode 2 in my Primeval Series 4 is now up!

Look for **Primeval Series 4: Episode 2: He Ain't Heavy**

If you haven't already read the first episode, look for **Primeval Series 4: Episode 1: MIA**


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